


Infinite

by kris_writes



Category: Infinite - Fandom
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Consensual Sex, F/M, M/M, NSFW, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Romance, Smut, Tragic Romance, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-09-22 06:49:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17055170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kris_writes/pseuds/kris_writes
Summary: What makes a man?Finnegan Ionescu was an orphan, a soldier, a drunk. A catalogue of little agonies wandering through life looking to numb his pain. That was all until a boy called Gabriel Vasile came along.Though, as with many things in life, not everything goes to plan.With his true love and his own human life so brutally lost, Finn finds himself navigating the world as one of many breeds of the immortal; a Vampire.With a cruel sire, Finn somehow persists and survives centuries, but at what cost?





	1. Prologue

__

 

 

_“To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.”_

 

 _―_ _Thomas Campbell_

 

* * *

 

_Piatra Neamt, Aclea_

_Revelation Day_

 

The day that the humans learned that Creatures walk the earth is one that Finnegan will never forget.

He wonders what his parents would think of him, what old friends, lovers, and enemies would say if they knew. But, most importantly, he thinks of Gabriel.

_Gabriel._

Cold fingers curl around his wrist, snapping him from his wistfulness, and Levi tugs him close.

“Come, now. We don’t have time for your daydreaming. The city is burning, we must _hurry_.”

Finnegan bites back a wicked retort, venomous words thick upon his tongue as his sire drags him away from flame and fury. He’s had plenty of chances to run, to escape this purgatory, but like the coward he is, he _stays_.

He’s faithful to a fault, for Finnegan no longer knows anything other than the misery in which he wallows. What’s the point, when everything you’ve ever loved is lost?

He keeps his head down, staying in-step with Levi as they navigate down alleyways that smell like piss and vomit, the cobblestones wet beneath their boots, smoke thick in the air. He hears screaming, wailing, the scent of blood, both human and _not_ overpowering his every heightened sense.

“Where will we go?” He says quietly, as Levi pushes him back against a wall, the jagged stone biting against his spine as they wait for a group of well armed citizens to pass.

Crimson eyes flash in the darkness as Levi looks down at him, ones that match his own, the colour making him sick to his stomach as he thinks about what enables the sickly hue. “We will go wherever we can feed without being hunted like animals.”

The city is burning, Creatures walk the earth, and Finnegan is one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cover art by kitt2506 on Tumblr


	2. With One Kiss

**Before**

 

* * *

 

 

_Piatra Neamt, Aclea_

_20 Years Pre-Revelation_

  


Finnegan Ionescu is an orphan, a soldier, but he’s mostly a drunk.

His raven hair, golden eyes, and strong jaw often grant him immunity from a scalding from men and women alike when he vomits messily in their bathroom after a night of barely-there romance when he seeks something to numb the pain of being, well… _numb_.

But tonight? _Tonight_ Finn isn’t having much luck.

The blonde, cherubic-faced boy who's nursing a whiskey and wearing shoes that probably cost more than a months rent caught his eye immediately.

He has a kind smile when he politely rejects his advances, but in that smile Finn sees a wonderful invitation to try again.

_Give him an inch..._

“Come on,” Finn says, noisily scooting his bar stool closer, drawing a deathly glare from the exasperated barmaid who has seen this particular tactic work for him one too many times. “Just let me buy you one drink. What harm can it possibly do?”

The boy laughs, but it’s clipped, maybe even edging on frustrated. He ponders Finn's proposal, his gaze lingering before he furrows his brow.

“What do you think?” The boy says, tipping his half-empty glass towards the bored barmaid to gain her attention. “Should I let him buy me a drink?”

She plants a hand on her hip, cocking her head as she studies Finn with narrowed eyes. She knows him well, a permanent fixture in her tavern these days, much like the other bored soldiers with nothing to fight for.

He throws her a desperate look, one that says, ‘ _Please,_ _I need this_.’

In fact, he almost says it out loud.

“He’s not bad to look at, what have you got to lose?” She grunts sourly, as if the words have been forced from her mouth with a pair of pliers, but she can’t be bothered to argue with the wolfish grin Finn throws her way. 

She moves to grab a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf, leaning against the bar and staring the blonde boy down, waiting patiently for his answer as though she already knows what it will be.

The unexpected camaraderie makes Finn smile a little wider.

The boy looks like he didn’t quite expect such a response, but the grin that crosses his full, _unfairly_ kissable lips isn’t a disappointed one. He slams his glass on the bar with a sigh, and she generously fills it with an amber liquid that Finn thinks smells like paint stripper, but strangely matches the colour of his eyes.

He hopes the boy notices.  

“I’ve never tried whiskey before, you know,” he says, bravely downing the dregs of his ţuică and offering his glass for a fill of the whiskey, hoping that it wins him some desperately needed points  _and_ isn’t too expensive.

The boy brings his drink to his lips, stifling a smile over the rim as Finn studies the rich liquid closely. “Whiskey is the thing you turn to after a hard day. For me, anyway. It’s a comfort drink, something to _savour,_ ” he says pointedly, likely referring to the unhealthy way Finn just knocked back his moonshine.

His voice is unintentionally sultry, thick with an even calm that Finn certainly isn’t accustomed to, and it makes his toes curl in his battered boots. Finn brings the whiskey to his lips, taking a small, tentative sip. He tries his hardest not to choke as it burns the back of his throat in a far different way than the sweeter poison he favours, but he swallows it down.

The boy quirks a dark brow, his eyes shining with amusement. “Not a fan?”

Finn wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes watering. “I think I’ll stick to my usual, thanks.”

The boy rolls his eyes, sipping his whiskey with little care. “Tuică? How terribly Aclean of you. That stuff rots your insides,” he says pointedly, taking another unaffected sip of the booze. “Let me guess, you _smoke_ , too?”

Finn grimaces, inhaling through clenched teeth. “A man needs his vices,” he mumbles, pushing the glass away as if it’s contents truly offend him, waving two fingers at the barmaid and handing her payment plus a generous tip for her assistance when she offers her palm. “Now, are you going to tell me your name, or are we at an impasse here?”

The boy narrows his eyes, finding the contents of his glass very interesting, looking anywhere _but_ at Finn. He takes a deep breath and downs his drink in one, the bar vibrating as he slams the empty glass onto scratched wood. “Gabriel.”

Of _course_ it’s Gabriel.

As if _looking_ like a fucking angel wasn’t enough.

“Pretty,” Finn says, meaning it. “I’m Finnegan. Finn."

“Finnegan.” Gabriel sounds it out carefully, testing how it feels on his tongue, and Finn decides that it’s never sounded better. “And what do you do for a living, _Finnegan_?”

“I’m a soldier,” he says, quickly, with an edge of bitterness. He pushes away from the bar, the stool protesting loudly against cheap tile, keen to change the subject. “I’m heading out to partake in that vice you apparently detest. Do you care to join me?”

Gabriel doesn’t even try to hide his distaste, but there’s something about the lack of approval that makes Finn like him even more. He keeps his gaze fixed on the bar, chewing on his bottom lip, apparently contemplating the meaning of life, the stars, _whatever_.  

Finn scuffs his boot on the floor, hands shoved in his pockets defiantly, anticipating heartbreak. “Look, I think you’re attractive, and smart, and... I’ll stop asking, but would you just give me a chance?”

Gabriel grips the edge of the bar, his knuckles bleeding white. A mumbled curse, and he’s standing, grabbing his coat. He brushes past Finn on his way to the door, the candles that barely light the dark tavern flickering as he pushes it open.

Finn’s heart sinks.

"You're lucky you're pretty, and _persistent_ ," Gabriel says with a sigh, pausing in the open doorway. “One chance.” He looks at Finn over his shoulder, the ghost of a smile on his lips before he steps out into the street.  

~ ~ ~

It’s bitterly cold outside, and Finn is more than grateful for the brief warmth that the match he strikes affords him. He cups his hand over the flame, inhaling greedily, clouding his lungs.

“You know, smoking really is quite bad for you,” Gabriel says, stating the obvious as he leans back against the wall beside Finn, their arms brushing as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his coat.

The accidental contact shouldn’t send heat skittering across Finn’s skin, but it does.

“Yeah, well… I wasn’t planning on living that long anyway,” Finn shrugs, speaking through smoke and a smile.

Gabriel scoffs, earning a wounded look from Finn. “You’re very dramatic, aren’t you?” He bumps his shoulder against Finn’s, dipping his chin and lowering his voice. “What’s your story, hm? Something must have made you this jaded. I mean, it suits you, _but_ …”

Finn flicks the unfinished cigarette to the ground, stubbing it out with the toe of his boot, annoyed that his disenchantment with life is so evident. “Oh, you know. The usual.” He tilts his head to the stars, the sheer nothingness of the sky at night always leaving him feeling unsure, suffocated. “I’ve always been so determined to succeed in life, but when I try, I fail. Miserably, might I add.”

Gabriel makes a quiet, dismissive noise, and Finn feels him looking at him, cheeks that are kissed pink by the cold heating under his inquisitive gaze. “Then try harder. You won’t find success or happiness sat in a shithole like this,” he says, jabbing a thumb at the dingy tavern.   

Finn’s following smile is wistful, tinged with sadness, and he finds himself startled into a gentle silence, a _comfortable_ silence.

He knows nothing of this man other than that he’s nice to look at and has no time for misery, but an impossible warmth blooms in his chest at the thought of finding out more.

Gabriel sighs loudly, pushing off the wall, quickly looking both ways down the darkened street, the lanterns that line it flickering dully in the light breeze. Finn expects him to leave, assumes he's finally become bored with him and his failed flirtations.

Instead, Gabriel turns to face him, stepping forward until they stand toe to toe. Finn comes to realize just how tall and _gorgeous_ he is as he stands before him beneath the pale moonlight, and he decides he’s really never laid eyes on someone so interesting to look at.

The pathetic candlelight in the tavern had done him little justice.

His cheeks are full and round, his jaw square but not too sharp. His lips are full, plush, a perfect cupid’s bow, but it’s his eyes that really do it. They could be described as ‘grey’, but Finn looks closer and decides that’s far too boring a word for something so beautiful. He settles on silver, but when he _really_ looks he can see flecks of something darker swirling at the edges, maybe even a hint of sapphire.

Bright, bright, _bright_.

Hesitation builds between them, that lustrous gaze searching his face again as he says low and deep, “What do you want, Finnegan? What exactly were you looking for tonight?”

Finn swallows away the thick lump that crawls up his throat, threatening to suffocate. “Honestly?”

Gabriel’s lips twitch, and he rubs them together to stifle whatever unnamed expression threatens to surface. “Honestly.”

He frowns, but he lays himself bare nonetheless. “Company. A warm body to get lost in, to make me forget how lonely I am. Just for a little while.”

“And that truly helps?”

It’s too much for Finn’s gentle ego, but there’s something about Gabriel that makes him want to expose the nerve, to cut open a vein and sap the poison from the wound right on this cobbled street.

“No.”

Gabriel reaches out, brushing a hand over the lapel of Finn’s coat, his touch lingering at the center of his chest as he leans in closer, _close._ Finn knows he can feel his heart beating frantically in the cage of his ribs, his fingers twitching over the thin fabric of his shirt.

His lips brush against Finn’s, gently at first, something too intimate for strangers, and as Finn surges forward, hungry for more, Gabriel pulls away.

“Does this?” He whispers, the words brushing over Finn like a caress, his breath warm against his lips. "Does this help?"

He nods once, unable to concoct a response, at least not a coherent one.

Gabriel hesitates, pausing, maybe to give Finn the chance to leave, to reject the intimacy he so desperately craved just an hour ago.

Finn stays, stuck to the spot as if he’s anchored, and he _craves_.

Then, the warmest melding of lips.

Mouths opening on contact, tongue eagerly finding tongue, and Gabriel somehow breathes life into this lonely, lost boys lungs.

  



	3. Alpha Shallows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change. We're earning it with this one.

_ “Come home with me.” _

 

_ “Absolutely not.”  _

 

_ ~ ~ ~ _

 

A week. 

It had been a week since the kiss, since Gabriel had smiled and left him alone outside that tavern with little more than a rapidly beating pulse and hearts in his eyes. 

The thought that all he needed to feel alive was a kiss from someone who had some self respect made him laugh as he stirred his coffee before training the morning after. 

All those nights of finding fleeting solace between a strangers thighs felt even more fruitless. 

Gabriel had shown him brief kindness and patience, and apparently that’s all it takes to unmake a man. 

Who knew?

 

~ ~ ~

 

He heads to the tavern on the other side of town straight after his shift in hopes of finding him again, Gabriel having politely refused to leave him an address or a promise of more. 

_ “We’ll meet again if it’s meant to be.” _

What kind of poetic bullshit is that? 

The only thing Finn has to cling to after their encounter is an ache in his chest and the infuriating realization that even the most perfect of kisses only lingers for so long. 

He takes a long, hard drag on his cigarette, throwing it onto wet cobblestones as he finds himself face to face with the door of the aptly named _Dead End_ tavern. 

He scoffs at the chipped wooden plaque that hangs from the flickering lantern, a crow perched atop a human skull, picking a perfect white anemone from the vacant socket of its eye. 

_ Inviting _ . 

The bell jingles miserably to announce his arrival, the three elderly (and  only ) patrons that sit huddled together in a dark corner glaring over the top of their spread hands of cards as he approaches the bar. 

He nods at the barmaid who rolls her eyes as he orders a glass of whiskey she  _ knows _ he won’t drink, sliding the cheap ‘crystal’ tumbler straight into his waiting palm. 

“Nothing?”

She shakes her head, messy silver curls falling inelegantly from her bun, muttering a curt, “Nu.”

He thinks he probably should have asked her name by now, but he decides in that moment that this is his final night of pining, of waiting. Why would a man like Gabriel want someone like him anyway, right? 

He nurses the whiskey, staring into the depths of the amber liquid as if it may whisper the meaning of life to him, and even as the bell above the door rings, he does not look up.

“I was secretly hoping you weren’t here.” 

Finn looks up, knowing that voice, as if he could ever forget.

He clears his throat, trying not to combust at the sight of him, to pretend that he's not all he's thought about since the moment he laid eyes on him. “Nice to see you too.”

Gabriel laughs, biting his bottom lip, hands shoved firmly in the pockets of his coat as he takes in his surroundings, looking like he’s wondering what the  _ fuck _ he’s doing back here. 

He takes a seat beside Finn, confidently plucking his drink from his clutches and taking a whiff, raising his eyebrow as though he’s semi-impressed with his choice before he takes a sip. He exhales sharply before setting the glass down and resting his chin in his hand. “So…” 

Finn wills himself to play it relatively cool, to  _ not _ get on his knees and beg him for his hand in marriage. “If you didn’t want me to be here, why did you come? You don’t exactly seem like the type to visit such establishments.” 

He bite back an incredulous laugh. “You want the truth?” He shrugs, staring down at his glass briefly before he downs the drink in one. “I didn’t want to become a notch on your bedpost, which I gather is close to crumbling by now,” he says, unable to meet Finn’s gaze. 

Finn is… stumped, maybe even a little wounded. 

“You can tell that just by talking to me for a few hours one night?”

“I wasn’t finished,” Gabriel says, and Finn swallows at the sight of his smile. 

It’s playful, his eyes bright, the promise of something  _ more  _ shining __ in endless silver. 

“I was afraid because my resolve was faltering,” Gabriel whispers, low, deep. “ _ Is _ faltering.” He runs a hand over his face, through his hair, laughing to himself as he shakes his head. “What have you done to me, Finnegan?”

A pause, a moment for his brain to catch up, and the words spill out of Finn’s mouth before he can stop them.  “I won’t hurt you.”

Gabriel’s smile fades, replaced by something curious, maybe even a little wistful. He quickly shakes himself free of whatever thought had taken hold, raising his hand to draw the attention of the barmaid. “Two more .”

Finn stares as Gabriel raises his freshly filled glass. 

The acrid taste of the whiskey burns his lips, coats his throat and warms his gut as he greedily throws it back in one, watching as Gabriel does the same. 

Gabriel stands, and he offers Finn his hand and a look that holds a promise of something new. 

Something _more_. 

Finn takes it.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Being with Gabriel is somehow infinitely different from the blind fumbling in the dark with whoever might have piqued his interest in an unnamed tavern. 

This man is possibly,  _ actually _ interested in him, and however conflicted about that fact he appears to be, his lips are still firmly pressed to Finn’s throat as he attempts to unlock the door to his tiny apartment. 

It’s simple, a living room come-kitchen come-bedroom, and Finn is almost embarrassed when he watches Gabriel take it in, the candles Finn lights barely illuminating the desolate space. 

Grey stone walls, hardwood floors, and an impending sense of failure is how he would best describe it, if pressed.

“This is… _cute_ ,” Gabriel says quietly, trying his best to sound convinced as he tugs his coat off broad shoulders, setting it upon the counter-top. 

He turns and stalks towards Finn with intent, and Finn  watches his shirt climb his ribs as he boldly begins to remove it. Finn wonders exactly how one man could ever be so perfect, eyes shamelessly fixed on the reveal of a trail of golden curls that dip between the defined v of his hips and tantalizingly disappear into the waistband of his trousers.

Finn’s mouth actually waters. 

Gabriel walks over to the bed, and Finn follows, idly wondering if they should talk first. 

That thought flies full speed out of the window when he watches Gabriel settle upon his bed, looking like he's always been there, always belonged. 

The impulse to touch him is magnetic, a palpable and impenetrable  _ urge _ . They move to kneel before one another on the too-hard mattress, and Finn hums in approval as Gabriel gently skims his knuckles over the curve of his jawline.  


Gabriel reluctantly lifts his gaze from Finn’s lips, a silent question as silver finds gold— what the  _ hell _ are we waiting for?     
  
Finn finds his breath catching, looking back at him with a discerning stare that slowly shifts from panic, to calm, to realization. With a sharp inhale Gabriel captures his lips with a kiss that  _ bites,  _ something hard and desperate, mouth open, eyes shut. 

“I hate whiskey,  _ despise _ it,“ Finn rasps between kisses, tugging his crumbled black undershirt free from the confines of his trousers, feeling Gabriel watching him with hungry eyes as he undoes his own belt, moving along to work on Finn's. 

He sinks his fingers into raven hair, dipping his face to seek out Finn’s lips once more, apparently hooked on him, his kisses. “But? I feel a ‘but’ coming…”

Finn groans, low and deep as a firm hand presses between his thighs, over the thin and unforgiving fabric of his briefs. “I like the way it tastes on you. I could get drunk off of that alone.” 

This kind of yearning isn’t normal, nor is it sensible, and Finn knows it, but that doesn’t stop him digging his fingers into Gabriel’s firm biceps and licking  _ deep _ into his mouth. 

Gabriel pushes him down against the sheets with rehearsed fluidity, bending to kiss his newly bared shoulder, his throat, fingers exploring his chest and the smattering of dark hair that covers it. Finn’s breathing accelerates shamelessly until it’s almost a pant as he cards eager fingers through tight blonde curls. 

“Make me feel good,” he whispers, the words thick on his tongue, a vulnerability that he’s never felt, something that almost chokes him. 

Gabriel pauses to process his plea, the blind urgency fading, something else taking its place. He exhales sharply, reaching to cup a hand to Finn’s face, his thumb gentle as he runs it across the sharp point of his cheekbone. “Tell me what you like. What do you _need_?”

Heat floods Finn's cheeks, and he contemplates his response carefully. “Everything,” he breathes, distracted by the way Gabriel’s mouth makes wet tracks along his throat. “Anything you can give.”

Gabriel draws back, running his eyes searching Finn's face, and he drags his thumb along his bottom lip. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

Unable to formulate a coherent thought with this man above him, Finn defaults to what he knows best. His hand slides down Gabriel’s chest, tracing the dip of his abdomen before his touch panders between his thighs, his half-realized hardness feeling good against his palm. 

Gabriel hisses through clenched teeth, his jaw tight, chin falling to his chest as Finn shifts beneath him, needing to prove something, to make him feel as good as he’d made him with just his interest. He tugs at the waistband of his black briefs,  _ starved _ for it, Gabriel’s fingers sliding back into his hair to hold it out of his face as he brings the tip between kiss-swollen lips

He’s craved thick veins against his tongue since that first night, the silk-soft feel of him better than he could have ever imagined. He wraps deft fingers around the base, stroking what he can’t fit in his mouth and indolently swipes his tongue over the weeping crown. He tastes salt-sweet, the heady scent filling his nostrils, making him moan as he sinks lower, _lower_... 

“ _ Fuck… _ you feel good,” Gabriel breathes, watching him keenly. 

He grapples for more, _greedy_ as Gabriel whimpers his approval, his hips rutting forward gently as if he cannot control himself, as if he longs to sink deeper into that wet heat, and Finn would happily choke if it meant eliciting that noise from him again. He pulls away slowly, second guessing the movement and diving back in, almost compromising his breathing but finding it hard to give a shit as fingers tighten in his hair in approval. 

Finn reaches between his own legs, palming himself, the shaky groan he emits making his breathing hitch, so much so that he really does have to pull away to catch his breath this time. He continues to stroke him, and he smiles to himself as he watches Gabriel’s toned navel dip, a shuddering exhale falling from parted lips. 

He curls his fingers around Finn’s wrist in warning, stilling his actions. Finn stares at him, dazed, wiping his chin with his hand as Gabriel urges him closer, a finger hooked in his straining briefs. His touch slides lower, lips pressed to his ear as he drags a finger between the curve of his firm buttocks. “Is this where you want me?” 

Finn nods, shuddering when more pressure is applied, biting back a whimper that’s _definitely_ embarrassing. He swiftly finds that he doesn't care, not when he’s pushed back against the mattress, the remaining shred of fabric that separates them joining the pile upon the floorboards.

He submits against scratchy sheets, shamelessly spreading his thighs, reaching back to fist his pillow, anchoring himself as Gabriel descends. His mind is clouded when they kiss softly, Gabriel startlingly tender in his ministrations even as he reaches down to palm at his aching cock, humming against Finn’s lips in apparent appreciation. “Do you have…” 

“I have.” Finn nods a little too eagerly, twisting sideways to reach into his bedside table to retrieve a small foil packet and a near-empty glass vial. Gabriel’s cocked eyebrow is visible even in the dull candlelight, and Finn laughs, offering him a shrug, no excuse to offer as Gabriel plucks the vial from his fingers and uncorks it without a second thought. 

Finn rises up onto his elbows, tearing the foil, wordlessly asking for permission and getting an impish grin in return. He rolls the condom down Gabriel’s shaft, unable to resist squeezing, stroking, basking in the quick, quiet sound that Gabriel makes.

“Lay down,” he growls, low and commanding, a tenor that has Finn’s toes curling before he’s even been touched. 

He fixes Finn with that piercing gaze, his eye contact unflinching as he presses a slick finger inside, stretching him with one, then two, and Finn welcomes the stretch and delicious burn. He chokes back something that sounds like a sob, a hand pressed against Gabriel’s tensed abdomen, the other curled in the sheets as Gabriel languidly pumps in and out. “ _ Fuck _ … m-more. _Please_.”

“More?” Gabriel grins, leaving just one digit inside, curling it until he’s hitting the spot that Finn rarely finds when he’s touching himself, seeking something electric. 

Back arched into a perfect bow, and Finn idly wonders if he’s ever begged before, because he’s about to.

Gabriel puts an end to his teasing, his smile fading into something a little softer, but with no less intent. He fixes his gaze, eyes dark as he shifts forward, searching Finn’s face for permission as he lines himself up, fingers digging into his strong thighs. 

“Yes,” Finn whispers, shaky, shuddering. "Yes, _yes_..."

Gabriel reaches for the fingers that curl in the sheets to entwine them with his own, pinning Finn's hand to the mattress as he pushes inside slowly,  _ slowly _ …

A shared, _sharp_ inhale of breath when he’s sheathed to the hilt, Gabriel moving in to kiss along his jaw, then runs his nose along the sharpened edge as they both take a moment to adjust to the feeling of one another. 

Gabriel pulls back, and Finn can’t help but to murmur his name, whispered quietly like a prayer, every stuttered syllable holding a request until the world melts into a choked, “ _ Hard _ .” 

He pauses, their gazes locked, and the perfect, wicked curve of his mouth tells Finn he’s about to make him see stars, the galaxy, the whole fucking  _ universe _ . 

He rocks into him with his whole weight, a palm planted firmly beside his head, the other gripping his thigh hard enough to bruise, and Finn wants nothing more to be marked up by him, to be claimed. Finn is  on _fire_ , his skin set alight by the warm breath that fans across his temple, the sweat-slick shift of muscle as Gabriel presses close, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm that has him shouting for a God he doesn’t believe in. 

“ _ Louder _ ,” Gabriel says, the demand punctuated with a kiss, something sloppy and quick pressed to the corner of his mouth, cut short by a stuttered cacophony of Finn obeying his request in kind.

He loudly begs for more, of _what_ he doesn’t know, but anything Gabriel could possibly offer him would be greedily accepted. 

Gabriel runs a firm hand up along his thigh, over waist and ribs, his fingers gently curling around his throat. A look passes between them, Finn silently begging with a gutted vulnerability as he grips his wrist, urging him on, urging him to grip _harder_ with a suggestive squeeze.  Gabriel  shakes his head, a quiet, sensual growl deep in his chest. “You’re something else, aren’t you?” He squeezes once, testing the waters, and Finn’s eyes roll back in his head. However fascinated with the needy reaction he is, Gabriel retracts his touch, dragging his hand back down over Finn's abdomen. “Another time, Finnegan,” he purrs.

Finn almost finds the energy to protest, but the promise of another time and the way Gabriel leans in to mark him in another way has him thoroughly distracted. Gabriel sucks a trail of bruises from his collarbone alone the column of his throat, growling when Finn drags blunt nails down his back, heels kneading the top of Gabriel’s ass with encouraging presses.

The unforgiving sound of skin-on-skin fills the tiny apartment, and Finn feels manic, driven to madness by this man, this force of nature that looks like he could have fallen from heaven itself, but who is currently seeking to break him, to turn him into shards.

He feels molten at his core, a bubbling, building  _ heat _ that threatens to spill no matter how much he longs to stave off the inevitable. As if he’s read his mind, Gabriel reaches between them to curl those perfect fingers around him, fist _ tight _ as he strokes him. 

“ _Gabriel_... I’ll come,” Finn warns,  _ sputters _ , choking on his words thanks to the unrelenting rut of Gabriel’s hips. His cheeks burn, his skin slick, and he reaches with trembling fingers to grab the offending hand. 

Gabriel bites his bottom lip, looking like sin as he shakes his head, dimples following his perfect smile. “Then come.” He arches his back, pressing forward until there’s not an inch between them, lips grazing, foreheads pressed close. “ _ Come _ , Finnegan.” 

He strokes him from base to tip, twisting over the crown, smearing the slick that beads at the tip down his shaft, jerking him in tandem with the expert movement of his hips. Finn chokes back a scream as he allows himself release, white ribbons painting his abdomen and Gabriel’s tightly curled fist. 

He vaguely recalls screaming Gabriel’s name, but the word had shattered against the back of tightly clenched teeth, his toes curling to the point of snapping, back a sinuous bow as Gabriel slams both hands to the mattress either side of his head and sinks deep, _stays_ deep. He  buries his face into the warm crook of Finn’s neck, and the husky moan he emits as his hips stutter with his finish is beyond beautiful. 

Finn cannot help but to push his fingers into his blonde curls, stroking soothingly in an act far more intimate than he can comprehend in his post-coital haze. 

They lazily nuzzle one another, oversensitive and overstimulated, Gabriel’s fingers trembling as he reaches up to push raven hair from Finn’s eyes, looking at him like he's something wondrous, precious.  There’s something about that look in this moment, something that certainly doesn’t match the frantic mood of what they just did. 

It’s raw, a realization, and Finn feels exposed. 

Sweaty limbs tangled, sheets forgotten on the floor, and Gabriel kisses him again, over and over, as though he’s done it a thousand, a _million_ times before. 

 

~ ~ ~

 

Gabriel stays and falls asleep on his chest, his breathing steady, luring Finn into a sleep he’s so desperately needed for days now. 

Finn wakes to find him still resting, sunlight peeking through his pathetic excuse for curtains and hitting Gabriel _just so_ , because  _ of course  _ even the elements make every effort to show him how impossibly perfect he is . He counts the freckles that litter his shoulders, finds a tiny scar upon his bicep, another at the base of his jaw. He cannot help but to let himself touch him, softly soothing his knuckles over his arm, his hand coming to rest upon his waist where the sheet drapes lazily over both of them.

Gabriel stirs, his dark lashes fluttering as he slowly opens his eyes, cheeks flushed from sleep as he lazily lifts his head from Finn’s pectoral, mumbling something quiet and incoherent. The arm that’s slung over Finn’s waist tightens, squeezing once before settling again, and he tips his head upward, meeting the burning gold that stares down at him. “Morning.” 

Finn opens his mouth to respond, inhaling to form words, but nothing comes out. He stares up at the ceiling, counting the peeling flecks of almost-white paint. “We did this all wrong, didn’t we?”

Silence fills the apartment for what feels like a lifetime before Gabriel shifts against him, pressing his cheek back against warm skin, staring at the front door that suddenly feels all too close, too easy for him to disappear through. 

“I’m a doctor at Neamt County Hospital. I’ve just turned twenty three, and my surname is Vasile. My mother was murdered last year, and my father is missing.” He takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s bored and merely reeling off meaningless facts that seem so  _ full  _ of meaning to Finn. “It would be easy for me to say that what we did last night was  _ just _ sex, but if it was I’d be gone by now, or maybe you wouldn't have let me stay. And I think we both know that wasn’t just sex.”

Finn clears his throat, fingers twitching where they rest upon Gabriel’s waist, reveling in how natural yet completely _foreign_ this all feels. “It wasn’t just sex.” 

Gabriel moves to bend his arm over Finn’s chest, propping his chin upon it so he can get a clear look at him, something wicked in the grin that he offers. “You don’t even _have_ bedposts. You proved me wrong.” 

A confused look, and then Finn remembers his words back in the tavern, huffing a quiet laugh. “Oh, those? They crumbled to ash a _long_ time ago.” 

Sleepy silver eyes narrow, but Gabriel’s smile widens. “Will you kiss me, Finnegan?”

Finn swallows thickly and nods, moving to sit against the wall that his bed rests against. Gabriel moves with him, and it’s like they’ve been doing this forever, something painfully familiar about the way they fit together. 

“You have a nice voice,” Finn says. “I think it might be my favorite thing about you.” 

Gabriel is close now, an infinitesimal space between them as he feigns offence. “My _voice_? Not my pretty eyes, or my enviable golden hair?” 

Finn quirks a dark brow, wondering if somehow Gabriel had overheard his thoughts, read his mind. “Full of yourself, aren’t you?”

A laugh, one that makes Finn bite his lip, stifling the urge to kiss him senseless, his heart picking up speed at an alarming rate at the thought of doing just that. “No more than you, Finnegan. Now, how about some coffee for your guest?” 

“You’re staying?” 

Gabriel exhales, contemplating his question, their noses brushing. “I like you, and I'd like to stay. Unless you have somewhere to be?”

Finn presses his hand to the center of Gabriel’s chest, both of them still covered in the night before, and he suddenly doesn’t feel quite so lost anymore as his heart flutters calmly beneath his palm, in tune with his own.

"No, I don't." 

Finn catches his lips in a kiss that ensures Gabriel requires no verbal confirmation to know that he feels the same. 

 


	4. As It Was

****Though Finn is embarrassed by the hovel he calls a home, he can’t help but be charmed by the way Gabriel settles within its walls without so comfortably, and without question. He habitually strides through the door after a two day shift and makes a beeline for the mattress that may as well be made of concrete just to be near him.

The routine they’ve fallen into in the space of a few short weeks is simple, but Finn craves it more than he’s ever craved booze or nicotine. It was an unspoken thing, something that just…  _ happened _ . Natural, just like all of their easy interactions.

This evening Gabriel is planted at the tiny,  _ pathetic _ excuse of a dining table in Finn’s kitchenette, hunched over a copy of a gory anatomy book with a cold cup of coffee in his clutches. 

“I just don’t  _ understand, _ ” he huffs, running long fingers through messy golden curls as Finn pries the cup from his hand before he takes an oblivious sip, emptying it’s contents into the sink. “The way their body had reacted to their injuries, it was like it was preserved. Not a single trace of decay after five days. _ Five  _ days.”

Finn strikes a match to light the stove, the kettle humming quietly as it begins to boil. “Well, that sounds… not right.”

Gabriel finally removes his head from the book, turning to look at him with a raised brow. “ _ Not right _ ?” He laughs, groaning as he pushes himself from the table, stretching his arms high above his head, his aching bones loudly clicking back into their rightful place. “You can say that again.”

He presses his lips to Finn’s temple in a gesture of easy affection, and Finn leans gratefully into his warmth. He pours him a fresh cup of coffee and pushes it into his waiting hands, leaning back against the counter to watch him with unabashed fondness like the lovesick fool he’s become.

“What’s the time anyway?” Gabriel yawns, squinting down into the dark brown liquid; no milk, no sugar. “I feel like it’s  _ far _ too late for the copious amounts of caffeine you keep plying me with. Are you trying to keep me awake for any particular reason, Finnegan?”

Finn offers him a self-satisfied smile and a shrug, and Gabriel reaches for his chin, firmly kissing his mouth before he turns and heads back to his research.

He has no ulterior motive, but just a desire to watch him flourish, finding himself in awe of his drive and intelligence. He’s been alone just like Finn, but his way of viewing the world is far brighter, something Finn could learn from.

Unamused but unwilling to obviously come between his boyfriend and his work, Finn admits defeat and busies himself with becoming as much of a subtle annoyance as possible.

Subtlety is key, after all.

Gabriel groans when clever fingers sink into tense shoulders, expertly kneading at stubborn knots that have settled deep into his muscles after days of being hunched over a dead body in the morgue. Finn scans the frantically scribbled notes over Gabriel’s shoulder while he continues his distraction attempt, feeling the tension melting away slowly but surely.

Hastily drawn but incredibly accurate sketches of a female with long, flowing hair with two perfect punctures upon her neck are present upon the crumpled parchment. She looks peaceful,  _ serene _ , but her eyes are whited-out and lifeless.

It makes him shudder.

“You did these? I didn’t know you could draw.”

He removes his clever fingers from Gabriel’s shoulders, ignoring his whimper of protest as he mourns the contact, crouching beside the table. He flicks through the haphazardly strewn pile of discarded pages that Gabriel uses for his studies, admiring each tiny detail.

Gabriel nods, still distracted. “I did, and I can.”

Finn is in awe as he scans the drawings, most of them quite obviously strictly for work, a few of them a little graphic for his liking, but he comes across some softer, personal things. “So talented,” he whispers, mostly to himself.

He sinks to his knees, the floor cold against his bare skin. He gazes up at Gabriel, yet again asking himself why he’s here, why he chooses to stay with such a lost cause.

Gabriel sighs loudly, closing his book. “I can practically hear your thoughts ticking over inside that silly brain of yours. What’s the matter?”

Silver finds gold, and Gabriel can’t help but smile at the pitiful expression Finn offers him.

“Will you teach me to draw like you?” He asks, and Gabriel sinks a hand into his ink-black hair, soft strands snarling about long fingertips, his touch soothing as he brushes it away from his forehead.

He looks at Finn in such a loving way that it makes his chest ache, and it’s in these moments that he thinks he may very well be the luckiest man on this wretched planet, maybe even the whole bloody  _ universe _ .

“I can  _ try _ ,” Gabriel grins, his touch trailing over Finn’s cheek, his jaw, thumb resting upon his full bottom lip. “Tomorrow, though. I need to relax, my mind is swimming.”

They stand together, heading for the over-sized windowsill which is probably the only decent feature Finn’s home is blessed with. A blanket from the bed is wrapped around their shoulders, and Finn settles between Gabriel’s legs, leaning back against his chest as they settle by the windowpane. Ice gathers at the edges of the glass, the soft glow of the low-hanging moon barely illuminating the darkened streets as they gaze over the sleeping city.

Finn feels warm breath against the back of his neck, Gabriel’s arms tightening around his waist. “I’m so tired.”

Contentment,  _ bliss _ ; things he didn’t think he would feel felt in abundance. He worries that he’s falling to fast,  _ has _ fallen too fast, but all of that fear melts away when warm lips press a kiss to his temple. “Bed, then.”

A quiet grumble in agreement, another kiss pressed to the nape of his neck, and they drag themselves apart, only to fall back together again.

 

* * *

 

 

Gabriel doesn’t notice when Finn pulls himself free from the tangle of their warms limbs come mid-afternoon, not does he hear him pilfering through the almost-bare kitchen cupboards, only rising when he smells…  _ burning _ ? 

“I made eggs… I think.”

He sits up quickly, and the sight of Finn in just his briefs and sporting a particularly wild bed head makes him smile. The smell? Less so.

“Are you sure about that?” He groans, falling back against the mattress with a yawn that threatens to swallow the room whole. “It stinks like the morgue.”

After lazily pulling on the first shirt he can get his hands on (too-big, not his own) Gabriel ambles into the kitchen. It doesn't take a genius to deduce that Finn doesn’t know how to cook, or really do much of anything for himself.

Gabriel is practically an orphan too, but he was a fully formed adult when tragedy befell his family.  

Finn was never nurtured by someone who truly gave a damn, and it shows. He’s young, but so is Gabriel, and the starkness between how differently they’ve both navigated the world up until this point is blinding in even simple moments like this. He’s clearly only known stability for a mere handful of years, if that, and Gabriel deduces that must be handled with care.

He smiles to himself, thinking how strange it is that something as simple as burnt eggs could awaken such thoughts.

"Finn," he says, his tone gentle, words carefully calculated. He fondly watches the stubborn man huff at the blackened frying pan before speaking again. “Let’s go out, my treat?”

Finn rolls his eyes, and Gabriel can’t help but smile, albeit exasperatedly. He watches in silence as Finn tries to salvage the food, but his broad shoulders soon hunch in defeat as he tosses the pan into the over-full sink.

_ Mission failed. _

“Come on, don’t pout,” Gabriel sighs, tugging at Finn’s low-slung waistband. “It’s the thought that counts.”

He  _ does _ pout, and it’s impressive.

Luckily, Gabriel knows exactly how to rid his handsome face of such an expression, and it involves a melding of lips.

 

* * *

 

A rare glimpse of sunshine greets them when they enter the park, Finn looking around wildly as though he’s never seen trees, heat beating down upon their backs as Gabriel tugs him to the grass.

“What’s the matter with you? Just relax for once, will you,” Gabriel chuckles, lounging beside him like laying upon the ground is second nature to him. “You act like you’ve never seen the sun before,  _ Ionescu _ .” 

Finn grimaces, sweat beading at his brow, and Gabriel flashes him a quick grin to quell his obvious disdain for the outdoors. He tries not to watch Gabriel, he  _ really _ does, but his gaze seems to get drawn back to him over, and over.

“You should appreciate the sun. What if it snuffs out, just like that? Imagine being bathed in eternal darkness for the rest of our days.” 

Finn’s brows climb towards his hairline, his eyes wide. “Wow. That’s…  _ wow _ . That’s dark, Gabe.”

Gabriel laughs when Finn rolls on top of him, gathering his hands in one big palm and pinning them above his head. He doesn’t struggle, not even when clever fingers try to make him, stroking over his ribs in a poor attempt at making him squirm. . 

He tips his chin, a request for a kiss, and Finn eagerly obliges. The grass is soft beneath them, wind gently rustling the leaves of the tree that shades them. The dappled sunlight makes Gabriel look ethereal; tanned skin, golden hair, something untouchable but somehow already  _ his _ .

With a groan, Gabriel snaps Finn out of his little daydream, shifting beneath him until Finn gracelessly falls to the grass beside him. “I forgot my sketchbook.”

Finn shrugs, wiping dirt off his trousers. “That’s fine, we can just… sit? Is that what you do in a park?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, but he still smiles, a fond thing even though he’s clearly exasperated with Finn’s efforts in being a total pain in his ass. “I can improvise. I’m nothing if not resourceful.”

He retrieves a small bundle of charcoal from his bag, edging closer to Finn and grabbing his arm, tugging it to rest in his lap. Finn watches him carefully, eyes bright as Gabriel traces gentle patterns upon his forearm.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re going to be my canvas, Finnegan.” He leans in to lightly bump their shoulders, his voice low and gentle enough to send fissures of pleasure coursing across Finn’s skin. “Now, shush, let me work.”

Such a simple touch shouldn’t make his breath catch, not after all the other ways in which they’ve been intimate. 

Finn drags in a serrated breath when the cool tip of the charcoal touches his skin, and he tries to focus on the clear blue of the sky, on anything  _ other _ than the warm body that presses close and touches him so carefully.

He’s hyper-aware of Gabriel’s face nearby, head bent, focused on his work; the rasp of the charcoal, feather-light and moving in slow, aching loops.

This shouldn’t be affecting him like this, but it does, and Finn huffs a laugh when he spots Gabriel’s pout, that trademark look of concentration that he gets when he’s working. “I like watching you.”

Gabriel snorts, brows furrowed. “You’re supposed to be watching me draw, not staring at my face. Don’t you want to learn?”

“I’m a little distracted,” Finn smirks.

Gabriel tilts his head towards him, his hands gentle and…  _ fuck _ , this boy will be the death of him, he’s sure. 

The urge to reach up and brush blonde hair from his eyes, to cup his hand to his jaw and pull him close for a kiss that would take his breath away, is overpowering.

He pointedly ignores Finn’s comment, tactful whenever he tries to be flirtatious, only ever reciprocating when it’s on his terms, and that makes Finn’s toes curl in his boots.

He’s so well put together that it always catches Finn off-guard, needing his approval in ways that he feels like he doesn’t deserve but knows he desires. Selfish, maybe, to mislead such a man; to let him think that he’s worth wasting time on. 

“You have such talented hands,” he says, his voice not quite sounding like his own, much to his own surprise.

It’s enough to make Gabriel pause and look up, his eyes more black than grey, and maybe this closeness is affecting him just as it affects Finn. “I do, hm?”

He clears his throat, back to focusing on the drawing. It’s a cluster of anemones, Finn’s favorite, and Finn follows his gaze, finally watching like he’s supposed to, watching the lines and arching loops that form the petals, the stems.

Gabriel sets the charcoal aside, brushing his hands off on his black trousers, and he sits back and surveys his work. “There,” he says, blowing any excess black dust from his skin, the tickle of his warm breath sending a shiver rolling down Finn’s spine.

“Ticklish?”

Finn shakes his head defiantly, frowning, never willing to admit to even the slightest weakness, and his stubbornness is once again met with a laugh, a smile. A reward, if you will, reinforcing his bad behavior.

Gabriel grips his wrist a little tighter, a reflex when Finn tries to pull away, pressing in to close those last few precious inches to steal a kiss, and Finn melts into it with a breathless sound.  They’re seamed so tightly together that he swears he can hear Gabriel’s heartbeat thrumming in-time with his own hammering pulse, and he lets his eyes flicker shut, losing himself to the sensation.

Finn moans and presses in as Gabriel parts his lips, and he climbs back into his lap, his hips pushing snug and demanding against Gabriel’s stomach. 

He’ll find the time to be embarrassed later,  _ maybe… _ if shame is even an emotion he’s capable of feeling. But, right now, he can think of nothing but to arch helplessly against him as Gabriel dips his tongue into his mouth and strokes slow and deep and  _ wet _ .

They shiver together, and Finn loves the low noise Gabriel makes, loves the way his hands slide down his back, pulling his body even closer, tighter against his own.

Gabriel’s eyes go wide and he breaks the kiss on a startled gasp, meeting Finn’s gaze, searching gold-rimmed black for something, anything. “You’re impossible, and you’re going to get us arrested.”

“So what?” Finn hisses, offering a deep and heartfelt groan as he offers a pointed roll of his hips. Gabriel’s grip on his wrists is tight enough for it to hurt, but that just makes Finn  _ want _ to struggle.

“We’re in a field, it’s the middle of the day,” Gabriel grins, something wicked in his eyes. “And yet all I want to do is throw you down a--”

“Then  _ do that _ . I’m not going to stop you.”

He moves back in for the kill, but Gabriel quickly tears his mouth away, gasping, laughing as he plants his palms against Finn’s chest and _pushes_. “ Finnegan !”

Finn somehow finds the grace to turn red. “Sorry.”

He’s a hard man to be mad at, with a face like that, and Gabriel swiftly forgives his boldness. He stands and brushes dirt from his trousers, offering Finn a hand which he eagerly takes. “Save that thought, home isn’t far.” 

It’s not, especially when you’re running. 


End file.
